


Rockin' It

by miss_grey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Architect!Cas, Cas is a creeper, Classic Rock, Dean doesn't know what's happening, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Snark, record store, shop owner! Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is getting ready to open a new store and Sam has hired Castiel to help him get the place ready.  Only problem?  Dean never agreed on this plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rockin' It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snarkymonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymonkey/gifts).



> Based on a prompt from snarkymonkey. I don't even know what this is anymore. Dean and Cas both decided to do whatever the hell they wanted to here, and I can no longer be held responsible for their actions.
> 
> See endnotes for the prompt.

 

 

“ _Damn it, Sam!_ Why in the _hell_ did you go behind my back and hire someone to renovate the shop?  I can do it myself.  I _wanted_ to do it myself.”  Dean growled over the telephone.

            Sam huffed.  “Jesus, Dean.  Don’t be a jerk about it.  Look, the guy’s a friend, alright?  We just graduated together and he’s new to the market, looking to set up some contacts and get his own business going.  I mentioned your shop to him and he was thrilled to be able to help.  So can’t you just… let it go?”

            “Okay, I get that you were trying to help a buddy out here, but honestly?  The guy’s just gonna get in my way.  I don’t need some prissy interior decorator putting his nose where it doesn’t belong: that being _my shop_.”

            “Wow, could you _be_ any more judgmental?  You haven’t even met the guy yet, Dean.  And besides, Castiel isn’t an interior decorator.  He’s an architect.”

            “Oh, yeah?  And what has he built?”

            Sam scuffed his toe against the tile in his kitchen and was glad that Dean couldn’t see his guilty face as he muttered “As of right now…?”

“He’s never built anything before in his life, has he?  Bet you he’s all fresh-faced and idealistic too, isn’t he?  Thinks everything works like it does in his computer models?”  Dean snorted.  “Sorry Sammy, but this is real life, and shit never plays out like it’s supposed to.  So call your friend back, tell him you’re sorry, and leave it at that.”

            “Dean….”

            “I’ll see you in a week.”  And with that, the phone call ended with a click.

 

* * *

 

 

Two Weeks Later

 

Day 1

Castiel waltzed up the drive, a nervous smile on his face, fingers tugging at his shirt sleeves, desperate to remain looking presentable in his jeans, shirt, and blazer, but his hair wouldn’t lay flat to save his life.  He was excited to meet his first client and he knew that first impressions were so important.         

“Who the fuck are you?”  A man dressed in ripped jeans, slung low on his hips, and a faded black Metallica t-shirt banged out of the front door and stopped, inches away from Castiel.  He had sawdust on his clothes and a bruise on his left cheekbone but it didn’t negate the fact that this man was beautiful.

            Castiel cleared his throat and held out a hand.  “My name is Castiel Novak, the architect that Sam hired.  Would I be correct in presuming that you’re Dean Winchester?”

            The other man eyed the proffered hand for a long moment before he rolled his eyes dramatically and took Castiel’s hand in his own.  “Yeah, I’m Dean.  And sorry to break it to you there, _Cas,_ but Sam hired you without consulting me first.  So you’re services aren’t needed here.  Sorry for wasting your time.”

            Castiel frowned, utterly taken aback by the abrupt rejection.  He stared at the man closely and found a bit of satisfaction when Dean averted his eyes and took a step back, but Castiel didn’t miss the stubborn clench of his jaw nor the derisive way he’d said _Cas,_ like he’d already made his mind up about Castiel.  “I’ve brought along some sketches and preliminary figures for us to go over, if you’d like to take a look at them?”

            Dean’s mouth fell open for a moment before he collected himself.  “Dude, didn’t you hear what I said?  You’re not needed here, so you can go home now.”

            Castiel braced his hands on his hips and gave Dean his best stern look; it had cowed meaner looking men.  “I heard you just fine.  However, as it was Sam that hired me, only Sam can fire me.  And he’s said no such thing.  So I am here, and I am going to do my job.  Now: is there a place for us to sit and discuss the plans, or should we do it standing here?”

            Dean snorted.  “I think here will be just fine, Cas.  Come on then: show me what you’ve got.”

            Castiel gave a short nod and pulled his laptop out of the case draped over his shoulder.  “I have some basic structural models laid out and also some themes that you might find interesting.”

            “How can you have structural models already?  Even for a newbie like you, drawing plans without seeing the place is jumping the gun in a bad way.”

            Castiel didn’t bother hiding his eye roll.  “Actually, Dean, I’ve been here several times in order to take the necessary measurements and perform materials tests.”

            “Huh.  Fine.  Let’s see it so I can get back to work.”

            Castiel pulled up three separate plans that he had painstakingly created based off of the practicalities of the space and the needs of the client.  The building was three stories tall: the bottom two were reserved for business and the top contained a private apartment that Sam had informed him Dean would be moving into.  Each of the models included suggested renovations for the apartment as well as the shop and Castiel was proud of his designs, regardless of his chilly reception.  To his credit, Dean _did_ look at all of the models that Castiel presented him, even commented that the second one, which focused on opening the center of the shop and using the second floor balconies for merchandise, wasn’t bad.  Castiel had been encouraged by the faint praise and moved on to the themes for the building.  He’d cast furtive looks at Dean but his client had refused to meet his gaze, instead chewing on his lip and rocking back and forth on his feet as though Castiel was wasting his time.  Castiel was heartened by the pleased sound of surprise Dean made in the back of his throat when Castiel opened the program which displayed an example black and silver logo and rustic furnishings situated casually throughout the first floor of the shop.  In the end, however, Dean refused to budge.  “Look, I’m not saying what you’ve done here isn’t good.  Sure it is.  I’m just saying I’m not interested in using any of it for my shop.  Okay, man, look: I know you’re a friend of Sam’s, but I want the shop to have a distinct vibe and I’m not convinced you could bring it.”

            Castiel lifted his chin in defiance.  “I’m certain that given the chance, I could bring quite a bit to this project.”

            “Do you even know what kind of shop I’m opening here?”

            “Yes, of course.  Sam said that you were opening a record store.”

            “Yeah, well, it’s a bit more than that.  I specialize in acquiring and selling vintage rock collectibles, memorabilia, and yeah, sometimes that includes records.  But that’s not all.  This place is called “Rockin’ It,” and it’s all about classic rock.  It’s my baby, and no offense, Cas, but you don’t seem like the classic rock type.”

            Castiel squared his shoulders.  “How would you know?  You haven’t given me a chance.”

            Dean smirked.  “Alright, fair enough.  Name one song by AC/DC.”

            Castiel felt his stomach seize up.  He had no idea—it wasn’t the kind of stuff that he’d ever bothered with.  “Um… well, that is… uh….”

            Dean took a quick step forward, clapped Castiel on the shoulder and said “Look man, it’s nothing personal.  Sam never should have offered, and believe me, I’ll be talking to him again about this.  Go home Cas; standing here talking to me is a waste of your time.”  And with that, Dean turned on his heel and strode back into the building.

 

* * *

 

 

Day 2

            When Dean showed up at the shop at 7am, it was to find Castiel sitting on the front steps waiting for him in another pair of dark-washed jeans, a gray shirt, and a pinstriped blazer.  He stood as Dean approached and smoothed the imaginary wrinkles from his shirt.  “Good morning, Dean.”

            “How long have you been sitting out here?”

            “Oh, not long.”

            “Well, it’s definitely long enough.  Go home, Cas.”

            “I think I’m rather fond of “Hell’s Bells.””  Castiel mused.

            Dean turned slowly from the front door to look at him.  “You listened to AC/DC.”

            “Yes.  Apparently I am deficient in my familiarity of classic rock.  I am making an attempt to remedy that.”

            Dean shook his head, chuckling.  “Dude, you do remember that I fired you, right?  Don’t waste your time.”  Then Dean squeezed into the building and shut the door firmly behind him, right in Castiel’s face.  The other man pressed his face to the window, however, and shouted back “I do not consider helping you to be a waste of my time.”

            Dean shouted back “Then maybe you should rethink your life choices!”

 

 

Dean was man enough to admit that he was hiding out in the back of the building.  He needed to make a supply run but he refused to leave the shop while Castiel was still taking up residence on his doorstep.  The only problem was that three hours had passed already and the man hadn’t left.  Cas had pulled out an iPod and with the ear buds snuggled firmly in his ears, he’d commenced humming “Back in Black” as loud as he could through the wood of the door.  Dean couldn’t decide whether to give the guy points for originality or worry about his refusal to take “no” for an answer.  After three hours, though, Dean couldn’t take it anymore and rather than risk the chance of Castiel following him to the hardware store or sneaking into the shop in his absence, he simply called it a day and decided to get an early start the next day.

 

* * *

 

 

Day 3

“You are one stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?”  Dean asked, turning the key in the lock.  Castiel nodded vaguely at his side.  “I’m not letting you in.”

Castiel hummed, digging his iPod out of his bag.  “That’s fine.  I will wait out here until you decide you’d like my help.”

Dean laughed, halfway between genuine humor and hysteria.  “That’s not gonna happen.”

Castiel simply shrugged.  “I have time, Dean.  Carry on—we both have important things to get to.”

“Gonna serenade me to “Highway to Hell” today?”

“Hmm?  No, of course not.  Last night I discovered a band called Led Zeppelin.”

 

 

Halfway through “Stairway to Heaven” Dean broke down and decided to call Sam.  His brother had barely picked up when Dean said “Cas is crazy, you know that, right?”

“ _What are you talking about,_ Dean?  Cas is one of sanest people I know.”

“Really, Sam?  Because right now he’s sitting on the front steps of the shop belting out “Stairway to Heaven.””

“What is he doing outside?”

“I fired him.”

“What?!  _When_?”

“Um… two days ago.”

“Oh my God… has he just been sitting there this whole time?”

“What? No.  He goes home and stuff.  Stubborn bastard just won’t take “no” for an answer.”

“Um… ok….”

“He refuses to be fired.  So he’s been showing up every morning even though I won’t let him in.”

“Jesus, Dean, you’re such a dick.”

“Hey, don’t turn this around on me, Sammy.  This isn’t about me, anymore.  It’s about the psycho you hired to renovate my store.  He just won’t _leave._ ”

Sam was silent for a moment before he whispered “You’re not afraid he’ll try to like… wear your skin or something, are you?”

Dean snorted.  “Someone’s been watching too many horror flicks.”  He cast his eyes toward the front of the store and could clearly see Castiel swaying back and forth in front of the windows, eyes closed, head tilted back, and a peaceful smile gracing his lips.  “No, Sam, I’m not worried.  You know what?  Just forget I called, alright?”

“Uh… sure, Dean.  And sorry, I guess.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.  I’ll catch you later.”

 

 

 

When Dean squeezed out of the door around noon, he was surprised to find Castiel almost nose to nose with him and definitely close enough to touch.  “You need stronger supports for the second story balcony.”  He reported, tilting his head and staring at Dean almost as if he were plotting the layout of the building on Dean’s face.

“No I don’t.  I already double checked them.”

“Then your calculations are wrong.”

“They’re not.”

“Dean.”  Castiel huffed and Dean could feel the air brush over his own lips.  “Please listen to me this once.  They need to be reinforced.”

Castiel was definitely too close, so Dean brushed past him and called over his shoulder “You don’t work for me, Cas.  Go home.”  Then Dean climbed into the Impala and headed out to get some grub.

He definitely _wasn’t_ disappointed when he came back from lunch and Castiel was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Day 4

The new support beams were delivered and waiting in a neat pile by the front door when Dean arrived to the shop early the next morning.  He wasn’t even surprised to see Cas sitting on the front steps already listening to his iPod and with two take-away cups balanced on his knees.  When Dean strode up to the front door, Cas pushed himself to his feet and pulled the ear buds from his ears.  “Good morning, Dean,”  He greeted, holding out one of the cups.  Dean took it automatically, eyed it critically for a moment to decide whether it was a trick, or maybe poison, and then decided the odds were on his side.  He took a sip as he contemplated the pile of beams next to his door.  The coffee was good, he’d give Cas that—dark and strong with cream and just the hint of vanilla. 

“What the hell did you do, Cas?”  He asked after another swallow of the still-hot coffee.  He surprised himself at the almost bored tone of the question.

Cas shrugged.  “You refused to listen to me, so I took matters into my own hands.”

“Cas….” Dean began warningly.

“No, Dean.  Look—despite what you may think of me, I do understand that you don’t want my input in this shop.  I even think I might be starting to understand why.  But I refuse to sit back and do nothing while you ignore a structural fault and proceed to endanger both yourself and your future customers.  So.”

“I could still ignore all of this if I wanted to, you know?”

“You could.  But I’ve already purchased the materials and they are waiting here for you.  If you don’t believe me, get a second opinion but please, for the love of God, Dean, reinforce the supports.”

“How did you pay for the wood?”

Cas shrugged.  “Out of my own pocket, obviously, since I don’t have access to business funds.”

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.  “You do know that _you don’t work for me,_ right?”

“Yes, Dean, I believe you’ve hammered that point home by now.”

“And yet you still went ahead and did this.  Even though I won’t reimburse you.”

“Yes.  This issue has nothing to do with you or I, Dean.  I could not simply sit back and watch in good conscience as you ignored a potentially dangerous flaw.”

Dean stared at the other man for a moment, his coffee temporarily forgotten.  One thing he liked about Cas was that the man had never been shy or evasive in his dealings with Dean.  He was slightly shorter, but he always stood toe to toe with Dean and met his eyes without flinching.  Dean was sort of a traditional guy—he liked doing business with people who he could talk to face to face and he liked the simple understanding offered in a handshake.  Cas’s big blue eyes were telling Dean now that Cas was being completely sincere.  He had no ulterior motives for this decision and Dean simply didn’t know what to do with that realization.  He shook his head, finally breaking their eye contact and muttered “I just have no idea what to make of you anymore, Cas.”

Cas took a sip of his own coffee then shot Dean a small, pleased smile.  “Well at least I’ve shaken up your initial opinion of me.  That can’t be a bad thing.”

 

 

Dean wasn’t stupid, no matter what any of his former acquaintances might say of him.  Once Cas was distracted by his music once more, he did go and recheck the supports.  And yeah, okay, so maybe Cas was right, and they should be reinforced just in case.  But Dean did have his pride—at times it was all he’d had—and he wasn’t about to admit to Cas that he was right, and he seriously wasn’t about to ask for his help in hauling the heavy beams into the shop.  So, in classic Dean Winchester style, he waited.

Dean and Cas said goodbye to each other at around 4pm.  Dean watched the other man walk around the corner and Dean himself even pretended to leave.  But he didn’t.  As soon as Cas was out of sight, Dean flipped open his cell and called Sam.

When his giant moose of a brother arrived, he did so with one of his more potent bitchfaces in place, huffing and dragging his feet as he let himself into the store.  “I don’t understand what you need _my_ help for, Dean.  I thought you wanted to do this all by yourself.”

“Yeah, well, you see those beams?  They’re fucking heavy, and I need help carrying them and bracing them.  Quit whining and I’ll buy you food after—even take you to that weird vegetarian place you like so much.” 

Sam’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead.  “Really?  You’d do that?  This must be a serious issue, then.”

“These balconies need additional supports to be safe, Sam.”

“I don’t know why you didn’t just ask Cas for help, since he’s been coming here every day anyway.”

Dean snorted.  “I wasn’t about to tell the guy he was right.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean and planted his hands on his hips.  “So you’re telling me I’m here doing this for you because Cas suggested it and you didn’t want him to know that you’re actually following through with one of his suggestions?”

Dean grumbled, not meeting Sam’s eyes.  “Well, he’s gonna know anyway, once he sees.  Weirdo watches me through the windows while I work.  But there’s no reason to give him the satisfaction of _watching me_ follow through.  He can see it in the morning and be smug then.”

“So what are you going to do, work through the night?”

“ _We,_ Sammy.  _We_ are going to work through the night, if that’s what it takes.”

 

* * *

 

 

Day 5

When Castiel arrived bright and early the next morning, clutching cups of coffee, he was shocked to see Dean, rumpled and tired looking, sitting on the front steps waiting for him, with a box of donuts perched on his lap.  Castiel approached warily.  “Good morning, Dean,” He offered, holding out a cup.

Dean smiled wearily and replied “Mornin’, Cas.”  Then, “Is that coffee?  Oh, thank God,” as he reached for the cup.  He took a long pull of the hot liquid, closing his tired green eyes in pleasure.  Castiel watched his throat bob as he swallowed the coffee down.  Finally, Dean sighed and opened his eyes.  “I brought donuts.  I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.  Thought you might want one.”

Castiel smiled warmly.  “I would love one, Dean, thank you.”

Dean stood then and pushed the door of the shop open, waltzing inside without a backward glance.  He didn’t invite Castiel in, but he left the door open, so…. Castiel wandered in, slowly, ready to bolt back out if Dean yelled at him.  His shoes scuffed against the polished concrete of the floor of the building, loud enough for Dean to know that he was being followed.  When he didn’t turn around and bark at Castiel to get the hell out, Castiel took the opportunity to get a better look at the progress of the shop.  He let his eyes flit over the minor changes that Dean had made—as of that moment, he’d done a lot of cleaning and some design, but not much else….  Castiel’s gaze landed on the balcony and he felt a pleased grin curl his lips.  When he turned back, it was to find Dean watching him, eyes wary.  Castiel decided not to mention it and instead took another sip of his coffee to hide his smile.  A moment later, Dean pushed the box of donuts closer to him, and when Castiel took one, Dean’s shoulders finally relaxed.  He looked away, but Castiel could see Dean’s own small smile.

 

 

After the donuts, Castiel took himself back outside to give Dean his space.  Dean hadn’t said anything, but his eyes were grateful and relieved when Castiel left of his own accord.  He watched Dean work throughout the morning: watched as Dean laid new boards for steps on the simple staircase that led to the balcony, watched as he sanded railings and filled gouges in the wood.  At around 11am Castiel sent a quick text to Sam and received an answer almost instantly.  The message made him grin.  Just before noon, while Dean was busy in the back portion of the store, Castiel walked down to the diner.  He returned, luckily, just as Dean was headed out the door.  “I thought you left.”  Dean murmured, eyeing the carry-out bags in Castiel’s hands.

Castiel smiled and held the bags up for inspection.  “I went to grab us lunch.”  Dean’s eyes followed the bags and he licked his lips and Castiel felt the usual traitorous flutter in his belly.  “Bacon cheeseburgers.  Fries.  And the woman at the counter said their special for the day was apple pie, so I picked up a slice of that, too.”  Dean moaned low in his throat and jerked his head back toward the shop.  Castiel followed him back in.

They talked about music, mostly, while they ate.  Dean told him that Zeppelin was his favorite, and while it surprised Castiel, he also felt a pleased smile curl his lips when he realized he knew the songs now.  Castiel admitted to Dean that he’d discovered a band of his own that he rather liked: a group that called themselves Creedence Clearwater Revival.  Dean had laughed around a bite of his pie and said that CCR was always a good way to start the day.  Castiel asked why Dean decided to open this particular shop and Dean admitted in a quiet voice that he’d always wanted to do something that made people happy, but up until this point he’d been too busy just trying to make ends meet.  He’d finally saved up enough, the opportunity presented itself, and he couldn’t think of any better way to spend his time than discussing the true musical greats with people who actually gave a shit.  “When some kid comes in, asking for suggestions, I’ve got a whole list of stuff I can’t wait to show him—to get him on the right path, ya know?  And I can’t wait until I get the chance to hook someone up with a vintage t-shirt from their favorite tour.  It’s those kinds of things that are gonna make this worth every second Cas.  You just watch.  You’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

 

Day 6

“What do you even do with your time, Cas?”  Dean asked after a deep drink of his coffee.  He set it on the counter and proceeded to fill gouges in the wall while Cas sat on the counter and watched him.  “Because seriously, dude, I know you’ve gotta have something better to do with your days than to sit around and watch me.”  He flicked a glance over his shoulder at the other man, but Cas averted his eyes and shrugged.

“Well, lately I’ve been spending my days here and educating myself on classic rock at night.  You know, I never bothered listening to this genre because I never thought I’d like it, but I admit I’ve discovered some new favorites.”

“Yeah, but come on, you used to do something with your days before you got landed with me.”

Another dismissive shrug.  “I was in school then.  I don’t have that now.  I’m supposed to be starting my business, but, well….”

“And what do your friends say about you coming here every day?”

“Sam, I believe, has been informed of the situation.”

“And the others?”  Dean finally stopped what he was doing when the silence stretched on for too long.  Cas’s hands were folded in his lap and he was staring down at them contemplatively.  “Cas?  What do your other friends say?”

“I’m not really the type to have a lot of friends, Dean.  I mostly just focus on work.” 

_Aw, shit._  Dean thought.  “That’s dumb.  Everyone should have friends, Cas.”

“Yes, well, not everyone has a natural talent for making them.”  Dean was about to reply with a sharp comment on how that was _bullshit_ but the tight set of Cas’s jaw convinced him to drop it.  So he went back to working in silence, aware of Cas’s solid, yet unimposing presence just behind him.

A short while later, Dean was in the middle of patching a larger hole in the wall when he was stopped by a familiar tune.  He turned slowly and Cas stopped humming.  “What song is that?”

“Hmm?  Oh, uh… it’s “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd.  I rather like it.  It…”  Cas’s thoughtful eyes dropped to focus on the cement floor.

Dean felt himself swallow and he set his tools down.  “It what, Cas?”

Cas shrugged, still avoiding Dean’s gaze, and murmured “It reminds me of you, actually.”

Dean felt a shiver go down his spine.  He had no idea what to say to something like that.

 

* * *

 

 

Day 7

Sam was worried.  He hadn’t heard anything from Dean or Castiel lately to indicate whether Castiel had finally given up or if Dean had gotten fed up enough with the lurking that he’d kicked Castiel to the curb for good.  He felt it was his duty, both as a brother, and a friend, to go down to the shop to make sure that they hadn’t killed each other and to pick up the pieces of his and Castiel’s friendship, if it had come to that point.

He felt his heart sink when he arrived at the shop and Castiel was not seated on the front steps as Dean had said he was wont to do.  He took a moment to curse Dean in his stubbornness.  He could only imagine the things Dean must have said to him to finally get him to leave.  Castiel wasn’t the kind of guy to give up, so if he was gone… Sam shook his head ruefully.  He wondered what the chances were that Castiel would still want to be friends with him after being introduced to Dean.  Sam loved his brother, but he wasn’t blind.  Dean could be a real dick sometimes, especially if he felt cornered.

He didn’t bother knocking—he was upset enough that he didn’t care if Dean got pissy about it.  He had a whole lecture planned in his head, but he stopped just inside the door, brain freezing in shock.  Dean and Castiel were both caught up in the process of framing out a display case, bent over their work in concentration.  Cas’s hands were holding one of the pieces of wood steady while Dean affixed the other end.  “Hey Cas, can you hand me a couple more screws?”  Dean asked.  When Castiel reached into the box on the counter and stretched to drop a few easily into Dean’s hand, Sam felt his mouth fall open.  _When the hell had this happened?_   Last he heard, Castiel had been fired and Dean was being a jerk about it.  Now….

Sam finally cleared his throat to get their attention since they obviously hadn’t heard him come in.  Castiel glanced back over his shoulder at Sam and offered up an easy wave.  Dean smiled at him and said “Hey, Sammy!  What are you doing here?”

Sam didn’t want to admit the truth in case it broke whatever spell was in play here, so he lied, saying “Uh, just wondering if you guys had eaten lunch yet?  Thought you might want to take a break to grab something?”

Cas gave a short nod and Dean answered “Sure, Sammy, just give us a sec.  Need to finish up this side here, and then we’ll be okay to let it go.”

 

 

 

When Dean slid into the booth next to Cas at the diner, Sam quirked an eyebrow but decided not to say a word. 

 

* * *

 

 

One month later

“Hey Cas,” Dean greeted, slinging his arm over Cas’s shoulders and pulling him close as they stood in the aisle at the Home Depot.  “So which shade of orange do you think will work best to highlight the display wall?”

Cas shrugged minutely, humming in the back of his throat.  “I’ve got it narrowed down to these three,” Cas indicated each sample he’d plucked from the rainbow set spread across the wall.  “I can’t decide between them, though.  What do you think?”  He finally turned his blue eyes up to Dean and Dean couldn’t hold back the smile at the mix of honesty and affection that he’d grown so used to.

“I think we should go with this one,” Dean said, plucking the middle sample from Cas’s fingers.  “Come on, let’s go put in our order, and then I’ll take you to get a burger, what do ya say?”

Castiel smiled shyly and rose onto his toes to plant a chaste kiss at the corner of Dean’s mouth, not caring that they were standing in the middle of a Home Depot.  “I think that’s a fantastic idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "How’sabout … Castiel has just graduated from college, full of ideals about being an architect, has found an awesome friend in Sam and is happy-shiny-face until his first client — Dean — who’s trying to build a local insert-shop-type-here and proceeds to not listen to any advice and does all the opposite things Castiel advises and proceeds to annoy/arouse the shit out of Castiel. "


End file.
